Mental note: gain back the 12+ pounds lost doing the 30 Day Shred and P90 before next session.  Any padding over my ribby back would be welcome.  In fact, gain 30 pounds, soley by eating cream cheese icing and other soft cheese confections.  For fun.

So I got a giant Kali mask tattooed on my back.  We have a giant Kali mask that hangs at the foot of our bed.  It was a wedding present that we bought ourselves.  She is beautiful, violent.  I am not particularly interested in Hindi or Tantra, but I find her image powerful and I particularly enjoyed looking down at her while I gave birth to Maggie in my bed.  While all of my tattoos mean something to me, mostly I just want to look at them.  Because they make me laugh, make me thankful, make me happy.  Nothing I can overly articulate.  I just LIKE them, I like BEING tattooed.  I am not all “every BODY has a story” (thank you for that one, Kat VonD, ahem).   It’s okay to get tattooed just because.

And so I do.

My tattoo session for the Kali outline was longer than my labor with Meeps.  Not kidding.

It hurt.   A lot.  I was quite sure that spread 9 was actually penetrating my ribs, and filleting the top of my ass.  Anyone who says tattoos don’t hurt probably does not have any in their ditches, their throats, their ribs.  Anyone who says tattoos don’t hurt has small tattoos.

Like labor, once you start you have to finish.  There is no turning back.  Like labor, every time the needle lifts, or the contraction stops, there is no discomfort.  Everything is clear.  You just hold on… let go… be ready to dive back into the waves.

The first few hours were OK.  I got by and sat still doing Ina May Gaskin’s “loose lips” breathing.   But by the last hour I was worn out and there was nothing but pain.  I had no energy left and it was at the part where it just feels like torture.  Scott’s friend and #1 Client Myke came in right at the end, I took his hand to hold loosely.  I went from a shaking heap to a still, but weeping heap.  I was so thankful for that understanding hand, I needed that calm and it worked.  He held my hand until the end.  What a ride.  It was totally a wonderful experience, to arrive at the end of that session with those two men.  Transcendent, tremendous… true.

Whenever I am sitting there going “why the hell do I do this to myself?!” I look in the mirror and know.  Because they fucking ROCK, that’s why.  I love it.  I love the experience, I love the result.

I love the adventure.  I love following through.  I love carrying it with me.

We’ll be covering up the “daeomnic energy wave” ass antlers.  And colouring it in… in less marathon lengthed sessions.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In other news, I had a good scare this morning.  Maggie was sitting on the kitchen table naked, and when she stood up there was a clump of brown between her buttcheeks.  I thought ohmygod, this is the payback I get for never changing a poopy Meeps diaper.   She’s just shit on the kitchen table.

I picked her up slowly.  I put my head closer.  I sniffed.

Thank god…

She had just sat on a cupcake.

I LOVED my midwives.  Lucy, Heather, Michelle… our favourites.  I can only wish that these women would be able to provide all pediatric and general physical health care for my family; not to mention marital, breastfeeding, and gardening advice.  So sad we must relinquish midwifery care at our 6 week post partum visit – I would have kept them forever.

Bob also hold midwives in high regard.  The other day when it was suggested to him that a certain highly complicated task would be best performed by a team of ninjas, he countered: “no, by a team of midwives”.

Ninjas, midwives.  You know.

And here are some terrible pictures of my really cute tattoos.  I got them coloured in last night.  No backpiece started yet, soon I hope.

I love standing back and watching kids interact.  He and a little girl, a few years older were the last in the showers.  They were beside each other, chatting away.  She announces, “OK!  Time to go, so we can go to gym.  Let’s play together there, OK?!”  He trotted right on out, instead of asking for me to push the button on the shower “one more time.”

We did groceries, got the kids balloons at the dollar store and now Scott is off for a jog, pushing the kids in their totally wicked awesome Mountain Equipment Coop double stroller contraption of brilliance.  (Great price, and the best kid containing device we have). Hopefully they are presently napping in tandem.

Had a most excellent weekend with Caitlin and the Meeps.  SO.  Friggin.  Awesome.  I didn’t take any pictures, because while I am great at taking pictures randomly, when the kids are doing things they do 16x a day, I am bad at taking pictures when you know… it may well be months before you see that person again.

Hoping Scott is going to finish drawing my backpiece tonight.  Listening to the puppy gnaw the wood pile.  Leaving you with pictures from some of our skating adventures.

“What is that stuff, Daddy?”
“That’s a giant rack of poison, Bob. Yuck!”
“But Daddy, I LIKE POISON!”

Oh, we knew it wouldn’t work forever…

* * *

And now some pictures of my neck all nicely coloured in.  There will be a bee tattooed above the flower so it fills in a similar amount of space on my neck as the other side.  And a picture of the kids & I in chore mode.  The only reason my neck is exposed to the frigid winter air is because I had taken off my scarf to tie it around my waist so that I could stuff La Cochonne into my coveralls as she decided that day to join us.  And was in WAY over her head — she at first barked and cornered the goats, but then she turned her back and got rammed.  I scooped her up quickly after that!  For her first time meeting the goats, she nearly got killed.  Silly dab.  Hopefully she’s got some natural instinct in her that tells her to stay away next time, or at least remembers that first hard ram!

1. Leave bandage on overnight.  No peeking!  And change your sheets while you’re at it.
2. Remove bandage.  Do not reapply it.
3. Get in the shower and wash the tattoo until all gooey, shiny stuff is gone and it feels like normal skin to your hand. Use a wash cloth and VERY hot water.  Try not to shriek too loudly, or pass out.
4. Pat dry with a clean towel or use a hair dryer, on a high heat setting.
5. If any goo wells up to the surface, wash it off ASAP. Keep an eye on that shit! Keep it CLEAN and keep it DRY and keep your dirty hands, dog haired sheets and scruffy clothes OFF IT.
6. Once the tattoo has started to flake off in that peely sunburny way, apply some something or other. I don’t personally use any petrochemicals on my wounds for longer than necessary (no Lubriderm, Polysporin, no Aveeno) and I don’t want anything sticky (attracts germs). So I usually use whatever oily balm I have kicking around that I’ve fashioned from ingredients like calendula oil, sweet almond, hemp seed and a touch of beeswax, and it absorbs quickly but thoroughly. This just gets me through the milky skin stage quicker.
7. Hey you!  Don’t pick! If you have to pick something, go for your nose.

And that friends, is how I heal my tattoos.

We returned home in the early evening after icecream cones from the stand in town to put the doors on our goat hut.  We figured we were all in good time as she was not due until August 1st.  Uncle Donald walked out first and saw little goat babies frolicking around the pen!  What a pleasant surprise.

The maternity ward was finished up quickly (wait until you see the sweet touch on the doors) and mama and babies were soon nestled quietly in a cushy bedding of straw.  No sooner were they all inside than it started to rain.  Could not have worked out better.  Not only did we not have to “make it feel like a banana” (play midwife to any potential breech births or the like), she’s taken to mothering beautifully.  Her little kiddos have had a few latching problems, but they’re nursing like champions now.

We have decided to work our way through the alphabet with every group of kids and keep the names tattoo related.  SO.  The boy is blonde, named Amund (for Amund Dietzel) and the girl is black and white with blue eyes, named Alva (for Th0mas Alva Edison).

Here are the first (of many) pictures of our beautiful little babies.

I am taking a brief break from cleaning my manky cheese covered kitchen to post this.  The kids are doing this amazing thing called PLAYING TOGETHER, which is a total sanity saver.  For every minute they spend entertaining eachother, I gain back the tiny parts of my brain that wither when they cry in unison.

Can’t wait to get it coloured in and do the other side.  I feel terribly asymmetrical!

So.  I waited until Maggie was 12 months old and eating more solids to get tattooed.  I never personally recommend nursing mothers (whose nurslings are getting nutrition PRIMARILY from the breast, ie 12 months and under) get tattooed because of the heavy metals. A contrary position to the LLL; from the very simple research I’ve done using MSDS info & the ingredient labeling on tattoo pigment, have found that the molecular weight is small enough to pass through breastmilk.  Unlike the LLL, I don’t believe getting tattooed while breastfeeding can be called SAFE, though I don’t think it is particularly risky either.

Exercise COMMON SENSE & PERSPECTIVE.  Tattoo pigment is not FDA approved, there are no studies.  BUT I don’t want or need the government to slap a safety label on everything I eat, touch or wear, I can figure it out myself, thanks!

So – I don’t sit for hours for tattooed while my nursling is primarily on the breast. In our shop, the decision is up to the woman’s discretion (unlike tattooing a pregnant woman – an unequival NO) and I would think it would be perfectly reasonable for a woman to decide to get some tattooing while nursing. The risk is theoretical, and very small.

There are SO MANY TOXINS in our natural world, in our living spaces. There are chemicals everywhere and while yes, it is (I feel) important to reduce our risk levels by reducing exposure, you get to pick your poisons. Our Britax Boulevard carseats off-gas, but that doesn’t mean I don’t use them. That ice cream cone on a hot summer day from the stand may not be organic, but it is sure delicious. And the heavy metals found in SOME tattoo pigments MAY impact my health if I pound enough of them into my flesh, but by gosh they sure do make me happy! Basic research and the powers of deduction show it’s certainly not akin to smoking butts or eating McDonalds daily, unless you’re talking about being tattooed from your nose to your toes, inside and outside, internal organs and all.

And EVEN THEN… The potential for health impact has essentially no negative impact on my choice to continue to get tattooed. It is a risk I am willing to take personally and I think it’s a pretty small one.  I am not going to expose my tiny little babies to that potential risk, but I am not going to be worried if/when they decide to get tattooed as adults.  I’d be seriously upset if either of my kids became smokers!

ALSO.  You can still make wise tattoo choices. There is no way that you should be getting tattooed with ink that contains formaldehyde or gluteraldehyde or anything like that. If your tattoo artist cannot have a dialogue with you about what is in their pigment, the choice is yours to find another artist. There are also a variety of pigment sources for a number of colours in the spectrum and some are definitely safer than others. You don’t have to be a scientist to realize pretty easily that glow in the dark and black light tattoos are probably not a hot plan.

Another also. The consensus seems to be “well it’s safe in the short term” (for most people, some do have allergic reactions) but what about “the long term” they ask. And about that perspective thing: one of the earliest evidence of Man on this planet, well he had tattoos. Born in ol’ 3300 BC. His body and the pigment placed into his skin were frozen in time. My point? While tattooing has only become really mainstream recently, it has existed for eons in sects of American, Polynesian and Japanese cultures (just to name a few). We’ve seen that this is absolutely one of safer activities man has taken up and has evolved appropriately over the last 53 CENTURIES!

Like anything else, make an informed decision. Use common sense and put things into perspective.

Everything else seems to be OK.  Sunflowers are popping up, corn is popping up, strawberries are covered in flowers.  The rest of the tomatoes and peppers look great, as do their replacements.  The brussels sprouts, cabbage, chard, broccoli and cauliflower all are fine.  The flowers for cutting are ducky, as is the basil.  The peas and spinach are growing as fast as they can.  Though there is only one lone bean sprouting through.  No sign of carrots yet either.  Or beets.  But they’ll come.  I had written one of the cherry trees off as dead, but low and behold there’s some nice new green leaves sprouting so all is not lost.

Oh gardening.  The emotional roller coaster.

In super awesome good news, Dave Allen has just joined the crew at my husbands tattoo shop!  It’s going to be great having another artist around this summer.  Scott is really looking forward to having someone else to tattoo, fish and drink scotch beside.

We’ve decided we should name our farm The Super Annoying Animal Farm.  Dibly, in grass-is-always-greener fashion, keeps getting her head stuck in the fence.  I see a hot wires in their future.  The baby chicks are at that highly smelly, manky stage… too big to be cute, too small to  be out on grass.  Daisy Duke does about 37,002 annoying things every day in her rabid quest for love and attention.  NoNo Goo Eyes only wants to play loudly once the kids have just fallen asleep and are more prone to waking up.  CatCat chews plastic bags -  a quiet noise that wakes me up from a dead sleep.  Puppers riles up Daisy.  Daisy continues to be annoying.  And the laying hens refuse to use straw in their nesting penthouse and therefore get poo all over their eggs.  And yet somehow, we are planning to add MORE animals to the mix.

?!?

Bob’s Bird House (Sparrows have already made a nest!)

Group hug!

Scott has homework almost every night.  He works a full day, comes home, puts the kids to bed and then drags his barely conscious self down to the kitchen to draw for clients.  Some mornings when I come down to see the previous evenings creation, I feel like sneaking off with it and keeping it all for myself!  I love this piece he just put on our friend Rob.

I love that the sheeps wool looks like Tibetan clouds and I love the livestock ID tag in its ear.  And the intestines.  I do love intestines.  Not that I’m planning on getting any of those things in my next tattoo (hoping to get some big roses on the sides of my neck before we start my back) but a girl can dream, can’t she?